


hush baby, don't you cry (look up, up at the sky)

by SearchingforSerendipity



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek 2009
Genre: Female! Sam Kirk, Gen, If Jim Kirk had a big sister, and every little girl that loves to look up, but this is not about him, it's about Georgia Samantha, up at the sky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 20:37:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4114162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SearchingforSerendipity/pseuds/SearchingforSerendipity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>George Samuel Kirk was born a girl. George Samuel Kirk was not born at all, period. Georgia Samantha has her mother’s nose and her father’s hair and a will all of her own when they place her on her mother’s sweaty arms. </em>
</p><p>  <em>Georgia greets the world with curious eyes and surprisingly steady hands. Her mother is exhausted and her father is joyful and she cranes her little neck to look up, up at the hospital lights, her first sun but not the last. </em></p><p>  <em>It sets the tone for her life quite nicely.<em></em></em></p><p> </p><p>  Or, the Kirk girl that rocked the universe on its heels and grinned all the while.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hush baby, don't you cry (look up, up at the sky)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello to each and every reader. This is a small something I wrote to put my gender bending and family Kirk feels to peace in one go. I hope you enjoy it! Live Long and Prosper.

George Samuel Kirk was born a girl. George Samuel Kirk was not born at all, period. Georgia Samantha has her mother’s nose and her father’s hair and a will all of her own when they place her on her mother’s sweaty arms. Georgia greets the world with curious eyes and surprisingly steady hands. Her mother is exhausted and her father is joyful and she cranes her little neck to look up, up at the hospital lights, her first sun but not the last.

It sets the tone for her life quite nicely.

Somewhere, under another sun in another planet, in a completely different family, a pointy eared child grins a smile his father will never understand. But this isn’t Spock’s story. This isn’t even Jim Kirk’s tale. This is about Georgia Samantha Kirk.

Her life is her own.

Let’s talk about how she loved her father more than anything. George Tiberius Kirk was a gifted caregiver, always had been. Winona took care of her daughter during the night as often as her husband, but he was the one who stayed when his Sammy calmed down just because he could, the one who rocked her, and touched her tiny toes and lifted her so she could see the beautiful sky, up up up.

Sammy grew up a Starfleet brat, brash and bright, a prodigy in oily overalls and tilted head, looking up up up. George taught her how to love the sky, carefully and fully, and when her mother expelled her from the engineers lab, tired of her tireless questions, he let her follow him through the skeletons of half built vessels, pointing out purpulsor rates and historic feats.

When she realized she was in it for life, eyes wide and mind racing and heart soaring, five years old and married to the shipyard for life, he let go of her shoulders. He let go of her shoulders and let her buld her own wings.

And when she told him seriously that she would create a ship better than any other, he proclaimed his certainty on her capability just as solemnly. The next morning, before boarding the Kelvin, her mother, already rounding in the belly where her little sibling was going to nap for the next five months, gave her a big hug and told her to be good to Papa Tiberius.

 

* * *

 

 

Sammy was in the courtyard when she heard her grandfather falling. He was kneeling on the kitchen tiles, comm forgotten in the midst of his crying. Sammy had never seen an adult grieve before. For a moment she thought the name he was whispering was hers. Then she didn’t. Georgia Samantha hugged her grandfather and he clung just as strongly.

She didn’t cry, not then, but her eyes were wet when they looked through the window to the Iowa sky, up up up.

 

* * *

 

 

Here’s the thing - Sammy hated her brother. She hated him when they told her he existed , hated him through the three weeks it took her mother to come home with a sqailing baby on the backseat and all through that day she hated him.

But that night, when the baby monster cried, her mother was too busy sobbing and her grandfather was too tired to ear, Sammy scurried her way to the nursery she had helped her father repaint yellow. She was so angry she was going to kill the damned thing if it didn’t shut up right now, but the moon fell silver on the covers and the baby twisted uncomfortably, red and sad and alone.

Sammy clutched the family crib and realized she wasn’t the only one feeling abandoned by all the good things in the world. The difference was that once, she had had a father to rock her and touch her toes and teach her how to look up up up, while the baby had never know him at all. Slowly, carefully, she reached out to a hand, and then another. She had refused to hold her brother before but she had seen the adults doing it before and she had done her research.

Even though he was heavy, she took him under the window and awkwardly tilted his fragile head up and up and up. This time she was the one seeing someone else fall in love with the sky

(“hush baby you’re gonna wake papa and mama are hush now you are not alone anymore, we are not alone anymore look up that’s it daddy is up there in the sky one day i will build a ship and we will travel there you hear me jimmy you will never be alone anymore i promise ”)

(“you will never be alone anymore”).

**Author's Note:**

> Naturally, I own nothing but what I create with my mind. That is to say, too much to count.


End file.
